


In Time

by MinilocIsland



Category: SKAM (Norway)
Genre: Established Relationship, Future Fic, Hurt/Comfort, Loss, M/M, Post-Canon, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-20
Updated: 2018-12-20
Packaged: 2019-09-23 11:23:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17079407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MinilocIsland/pseuds/MinilocIsland
Summary: Some anniversaries are of the good kind. Others are not.





	In Time

**Author's Note:**

> This week has been a bone-crusher - but I really wanted to write something for the SKAMenger hunt this week as well, so here it is, filling the prompt "Family Gathering".
> 
> It's a bit sad, but I hope you'll like it nonetheless. <3

The apartment is silent, save for an irregular clicking sound coming from the kitchen. Occasionally, there’s the rustle of paper, the scrape of a chair against the wooden floor, and the soft thud of a mug being set down on the table.

Sounds that he knows as well as his own heartbeat by now.

It’s the sound of quiet weekend mornings, of familiarity, of home.

Of Even, sitting at the kitchen table with his back to the door, white shirt stretching over his shoulders, pen in hand that he clicks every now and then as he’s thinking, bent over the Saturday crossword puzzle.

He looks up as Isak enters; lifts his reading glasses from the top of his nose to put them on the table, and stretches out one arm for Isak to lean into.

It’s still the first thing they do in the mornings: check in with each other, one way or another. Over the phone, if one of them is away for work. Forehead to forehead, or rolling on top of one another, if they happen to wake up at the same time in their bed.

Or, like now: Isak sitting down in Even’s lap, lips against his temple, hand on his shoulder. A few graying strands by Even’s ear catch his eye. Most mornings, it wouldn’t bother him. On days like these, however –

He sighs, the warm air from his mouth catching in Even’s hair, lingering against his own lips.

“There’s coffee for you – I turned it off maybe half an hour ago, but I can make some more if you want,” Even says, fingertips travelling up and down his waist.

Isak nods. “In a while, I think. I’ll wait a little.”

“How are you feeling today?” Even’s arm comes up around his lower back, holding him in place, keeping him from sliding off his legs.

He fiddles with a loose thread on the collar of Even’s t-shirt. “Okay, I guess. Weird. I don’t know.”

Even’s exhale is warm against his neck. “I know.”

A moment’s silence.

He holds Even’s head to his chest, the pulse of his neck steady against his thumb. Staring into the dusk of the hallway over the top of Even’s head, he feels a few haphazard strands of hair tickle at his nose.

“How long do you think it’ll be until I stop counting?” he asks, suddenly. “Do you think I’ll quit when it’s been a year?”

Even sighs. “I don’t know, babe. I – maybe you’ll always keep count, in a way.”

“It’s like – like all I see are anniversaries,” he continues, trying to ignore Even’s last words. “The first summer. My birthday. One year since we found out.”

He draws a quick breath, Even silent against his chest, waiting, listening.

“It’s so weird – I’ve never even liked Christmas. You know that. And now it feels like celebrating it without her – like something steady has been ripped out from under my feet. Just because it’s the first one.”

The burn behind his eyelids is familiar, and he tries to will it away – it’s not that he’s shy of crying in front of Even, but he’s just so _tired_ of it.

“And I don’t even know if – if I want to go to my dad’s. I mean, I guess I should be there for him, in a way, but they weren’t even together anymore, and – and it’s not like I have a bigger right to be sad than he has, but – but in a way, I still think that I have, you know?”

He can’t stop the tears from falling into Even’s hair now, and he lifts his hand to rub at his eyes.

“Baby. You don’t owe him anything.” Even’s chest expands against his own with a deep breath. “We can stay here if you want to. Just you and me. Or go to my parents.”

He exhales, a shaky breath into thin air. “Yeah.” A pause. ”What about Lea, though?”

”She’s grown up, too,” Even responds. ”She can make her own decisions. Just like you.”

”But we can’t invite her here without him. I mean – that’s just cruel.” The knot in his stomach tightens, an impossible puzzle to solve.

Even tightens the grip on his waist. ”Maybe we could go to his place for lunch. And then we can just go home if it’s too much. You can blame me if you want. Too much Christmas stress, say that I need rest or whatever.”

”Baby.” Isak’s chest tightens with every breath. ”You can’t do that.”

”I can. And I don’t care. I’m not doing it for him, I’m doing it for you.”

He rests his chin on the top of Even’s head. ”Thank you.” A moment of silence. ”We’ll see.”

”Yeah.” Even’s hand is warm, big and flat against his lower back.

Another shaky exhale, and he lets his fingers find the way up through Even’s hair, drawing him closer, the tip of Even’s nose cool against his collarbone.

“Do you know who was married to Ahab?” Even asks, suddenly. “Seven letters, ends with an L.”

Isak turns in his arms, twists his torso to look down at the crossword puzzle on the table. “It’s Jezebel,” he says. “Or Jisebel, perhaps. Depends.”

“So lucky, I can always count on you for the Bible references,” Even smiles, leaning a little to the side to grab the pen beside his glasses.

Isak smiles back. “You should thank my mum for that, you know.”

“I should thank her for a lot of things.” Even looks up, and lifts a hand to his cheek.

His chest feels tight again. “I wish you could.”

“I know, baby.” Even’s finger traces his brow, out to his ear, following the shape of it down his neck, and out to his shoulder.

He sighs. “Sometimes I wish it hadn’t taken me, like, fifteen years to forgive myself for walking out on her when I was just a kid, you know.”

“I think she knew that.” Even clicks the pen. “And think about where the two of you were when she passed away. That’s always something.”

“Yeah.” It’s not the first time they’re having this conversation, but it doesn’t feel like a dead end. More like a loop, a circle of reassurance he needs to pass through in order to continue. “I know.”

He looks down at Evens hand holding the pen, at the tendons stretching under the winter-pale skin of his arm – his muscles more defined since he started running twice a week, and since he started to play badminton on Tuesdays.

However, the freckles lining the sleeve of Even’s t-shirt look just the same as the day they met. The hollow beside his bicep the perfect spot for Isak’s thumb to rest, skin smooth and silky against his finger pad.

“I can’t believe you use a _pen_ for this, still,” he says, nodding down at the table. “I should give you one of those real crosswords pens for Christmas, the ones with erasable ink and all.”

Even raises his eyebrows. “You don’t think those glasses are enough to remind me that I’m turning forty in a few months?”

Isak laughs. A real laugh, one that he can feel all the way down in his chest.

“It’s Jezebel, by the way,” he says, pointing down to the paper. “Look, here, it fits with ‘zoo’.”

Even lifts the pen, and holds Isak’s waist with his other arm as he leans in to type it down. “How lucky I am to have you.”

“Yeah.” Isak smiles against his bent-down neck, skin warm under his lips. “I am, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Talk to me on [tumblr](https://irazor.tumblr.com)!


End file.
